A Burden
by deeleigh
Summary: SPOILERS FOR EitB. Burden: bur·den bûrd'n -Something that is emotionally difficult to bear. -A source of great worry or stress; weight


**A/N: Alright. If you have not seen the finale yet DO NOT READ THIS. I swear to God, if you do, I will hunt you down and kill you. I'll do it, too, which is the scary part. Watch the finale, you don't want the ending ruined. At first, I was extremely emotional about the whole things; I cried and hyperventialed. Then I punched a wall. Then cried some more. But then, I sort of accepted it. I'm now at peace with it.**

**This is the first time Bones has ever really done this sort of finale ending. Usually it is relatively closed -- we normally get some form of explanation. But this time, we have no such luck. And, did anyone else (who read every spoiler avaliable) notice that Hart Hanson is a HUGE lier?! No dream sequence my ass. If I see that guy anytime before September, I will make him explain what is going on to me, then I will kick his butt, but good.**

**I have some ideas as to what may actually happen next season, and although I will most likely not be writing them, if anyone wants to rant or cry or even just discuss the whole situation calmly, feel free to PM me or email me (dakotaa_25hotmail[dot]com ). Thanks. **

**Oh, also feel free to review.**

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Burdens can set us free. Or, as I more recently learned, can trap us.

When words are spoken, it is not the words themselves that matter, but the meaning behind the words. You can say words with a certain impact; the way in which you speak things can effect how the listener hears your message. Like meaning and tone, the person to whom you say your words has impact on the meaning -- who they are changes what you really say.

For so long, I never said anything with meaning; the way in which I said things did not matter, and whomever I was speaking to didn't matter either. Then one day -- as if a country's worth of weight was lifted from my shoulders -- I was set free.

For once in my life, who my parents were did not matter. How high my IQ was did not matter. My book didn't matter. For once in my life, I had someone to whom I was all that mattered. My happiness and wellbeing came before that of all other's.

For once in my life, my thoughts, my feelings, my hopes and my dreams were all that mattered to someone other than myself.

But, eventually, I realised that the fact that someone cared for me didn't matter so much -- but the fact that I cared for them.

I could deny my feelings -- and say the were ephemeral -- but after so long, it becomes impossible to lie to yourself. Lying to yourself and lying to others is completely different though.

I could easily lie to Angela --although I knew she had meritt to her claims, she need not know that much.

For four days, six hours, and forty seven minutes I had that weight put back on my shoulders. For four days, six hours, and forty seven minues, I had to sit and wait for my world to come crashing down or for it to let me fly.

And on that forty seventh minfute, things were looking up. Sometimes though, in moments of relief, we forget basci physics: what goes up, must come down.

He mumbled or cough, or something similar. What he did did not matter. He was awake.

Booth was awake.

"Booth? You're awake?"

He looked at me in a way I'm not sure anyone has seen. I've seen him look confused, angry, joyful, terrified and hurt, but I had never seen him look so lost.

"It was so real."

I have no idea as to what that means, but I try and reassure him anyways. "It wasn't real."

He sorted through his thoughts while I rambled about comas and anesthetics.

When I finally shut up, he was staring at me. He looked like he wanted to say something, so I looked him dead in the eye.

"Who are you?"

I heard myself gasp, and I registered somewhere in my mind that I needed to brace myself. I felt the tears -- that had been threatening to fall all week -- burn my eyes.

I said before that words have meaning, that the meanings change from person to person. And for four days, six hours and forty seven minutes, I had contemplated every words that I wished I had said, and every chance that I had wasted. And how the three words I had never had the chance to say would never mean the same thing to him. He would never truly be able to understand how much it really meant for me to say those three simple words.

I felt the weight on my shoulders build as I stood there, waiting for him to say something. And I felt my regrets build and build. And I realised that I may never be set free of this burden -- that I may be traped... forever.


End file.
